The Road to Hell

by Jackie Kessler

  "You who were Jezebel," Michael said. "You speak as though you understand Me. You can never understand Me."

  "Of course not, Lord." I bowed my head slightly, a token of deference. "I can only try to imagine what it must be like. You've been appointed to this most important of roles, and instead of seeing You, those around You continue to see the one who was here before. It must be infuriating."

  "You have no idea," He said, leaning back in the throne as if seeking refuge. "To finally be rewarded as I should have been from the first, only to have His name constantly shoved at Me…" He bared His teeth, which shone as whitely as His naked skin. "What must I do to be free of Him?"

  For an Archangel, he radiated sin—envy, pride, jealousy… even lust: a lust for acknowledgement, a consuming hunger for self-fulfillment. I said, "Only Your best, Lord."

  His gaze sizzled green fire. "I am. But even so, all I get is criticism. From Alecto with her comparisons that sting worse than scorpions. From the Kings, yammering with their quiet demands, their enormous ambitions. From everyone."

  "It must be difficult to be so patient," I said, thinking of how He had destroyed Asmodai for being a fool. No, stop—don't be a hypocrite. Believe your words. "No one could possibly understand the pressure of being King of Hell."

  "No one," He agreed.

  "You were appointed for a reason," I said. "Surely, what other creatures do or think doesn't matter, when compared with the Almighty's belief in Your ability."

  "The Almighty." He covered His eyes with a pale hand. "The Almighty won't speak with Me, won't offer either guidance or praise. He doesn't even voice any criticism. He threw Me here in Hell and abandoned Me."

  Frowning, I said, "Lord, I don't understand. You said that You were finally rewarded as You should have been long ago. Don't You want to be King of the Pit?"

  "Want? I want what I have ever wanted. I want the Almighty to recognize all that I have done for Him."

  "Lord?"

  "I convinced Abraham to sacrifice a ram instead of his son, and I saved his grandson not once but twice. I taught Adam to farm and Moses the Law. I was the first of the angels to bow before humans." He said, snarling, "to accept the Almighty's decree that humans are our superiors because they can act for themselves. I am Saint Michael the Archangel, Viceroy of Heaven."

  His voice echoed in the chamber as I absorbed His words. I had to admit, He had a damn impressive resume. And enough personal issues to keep a therapist in business for at least three lifetimes.

  "All I ever wanted," Michael said, "was His love. But the Almighty saved that love for one other, had none left for Me."

  "Perhaps He showed you His love in other ways," I said. "He did appoint you King of Hell, after all."

  "Yes, at the Almighty's word, We switched roles. Now the Morning Star is a psychopomp, the overseer of death, and I am King of the damned." He laughed, a bitter sound that reminded me so much of Lucifer. "I am an Archangel. What do I know of damnation?"

  Maybe it was the laugh that struck a chord; maybe it was His words. Maybe it was the memory of Lucifer's advice. Whatever the reason, I suddenly understood what I needed to do.

  I rose to my feet, took a step toward the dais. "You are learning, Lord. Things take time."

  "Time that I don't have." He sighed, a mournful note in the chill air of the throne room. "Alecto told you her latest projections, did she not? The Nameless One stirs. No matter what I do, it is not enough."

  My foot touched the bottom of the dais. "Lord, You are still new to the role. You are exploring new options, doing things that Your predecessor had never imagined." Like softening the boundaries of Sin. Like replacing Seducers with virginal holiness. As horrific as those actions were to the denizens of Hell, at least He'd tried to do something different. The old way had no longer been enough; if it were, then Lucifer would still be King of Hell.

  Times had to change, as Alecto said. And Michael, whatever else He was, brought with Him vast change.

  Maybe it would be enough to tempt the Devil and save the world.

  As if He had read my mind, Michael said, "It is not enough."

  "No," I agreed. "Not yet. But Lord, Alecto said to me that she thinks you will do an excellent job."

  He lowered His hand to peer at me. "You are not lying. I see that clearly. The Erinyes really said that to you." His voice trailed off, sounding lost.

  "She did, Lord. Sire," I said, swallowing, testing the word on my tongue as I walked up the dais steps. "You can be a superb ruler of the Abyss. You can keep the Devil Itself from destroying the mortal coil. You can do this, Sire."

  He looked at me, standing at the foot of His throne. "How do you know this? How can you know this?"

  I reached out, touched His hand, its flesh so cold that it burned. "I don't know, Sire. But I believe. You stand just beneath the Almighty in power. Nothing is beyond You. All You have to do is want to rule well, Sire. Want it," I said, moving to the side of the throne, "and it will happen."

  "Want," He said, staring at my hand on His. "And what do you know of want, you who were Jezebel?"

  Remember, Lucifer had said, even the butcher may turn piper.

  Standing next to where He sat, I stroked Michael's cheek, so cold, so perfect—so needing to be warmed with another's touch. "If there's one thing I do know, Sire, it's want."

  Before He could say anything else, I leaned forward and kissed Him. I opened my mouth, ran my tongue over those frosty lips. He made a sound, but I swallowed the gasp of surprise. His mouth opened and I reached in, touched His tongue with mine, shared my heat as I moved in slow circles in His mouth. He tasted like falling snow.

  Leaning against Him as I deepened the kiss, my breasts pressed against his cold flesh, and my nipples pebbled from the contact.

  Let me melt You, show You that someone understands…

  I was so lost in the kiss that I didn't realize something was wrong until I couldn't feel my lips.

  My eyelids fluttered, but refused to open; my tongue was a sheet of ice. Numbness spread across my face, lacerating my flesh with threads of frost. I forced my eyelids open, felt the yank of my lashes pulling free. Tears welled up and chilled over, stealing my sight. My lids throbbing, I blinked away the ice until it softened and thawed, finally meandering down my cheeks. When my vision cleared, I saw the pure white of Michael's face, the bright green of his hungry eyes as He devoured my kiss.

  With a cry I pulled myself away, then shrieked from the searing pain at the base of my throat. Blood gushed from my mouth. I clasped my hands over my stinging lips, felt the hot liquid seep between my fingers, the thick heat sliding down the raw wound until I coughed, choking.

  Michael grinned, my frozen tongue dangling from His red-stained mouth before He opened wide and sucked it in. Chewing, He smiled at me, working His jaws and grinding His teeth before He swallowed.

  "You taste divine," He said.

  In that one moment, all I could think of was attacking Him, destroying Him. And in my agony and my rage, I summoned my power and cocked my fist back, a breath away from releasing it. I couldn't win against an Archangel, let alone one on par with King Lucifer. It would be the last thing I ever did. I would be annihilated. But maybe, just maybe, I'd take Him with me.

  Come on, You holy bastard. Let's dance.

  "Stop."

  Meg's voice froze me where I stood. My muscles quivered, crying for movement; my magic sizzled through my body, begging to be released. But the Fury had commanded me to stop. And so, I was stopped.

  I was really starting to hate it when other entities forced me to their will. Being a demonic Barbie doll really sucked.

  From above, the sound of iron against iron. The chains fell to the floor with an enormous crash, followed by the clang of four spikes.

  "Megaera," Michael growled, "this does not concern you."

  She floated down, landed before me, her back facing me.

  Reaching back to place one hand on my shoulder, she said, "It does, Sire. She
would not be here, if not for me. That responsibility is mine."

  "And you are here because of her," He said.

  "Not any more, Sire." Power flowed through her, hummed beneath her hand and worked its way through my body. My blood sang with magic, coursed through me, soothing my hurt and easing my pain. Healing me. It bubbled over the tear in my mouth, sealed it. And then it slowly knit me a new tongue.

  It hurt like a motherfucker, and when it finally was done I wanted to crawl under a rock and bury my head until the pain ebbed away. Instead I stared at the King of Hell, my face impassive, seething inside with such rage that the Berserkers would have mistaken me for one of their own.

  To Meg I said, "Thank you."

  "You're welcome, Jez." She squeezed my shoulder, and I pulled my murderous gaze from Michael to look at her. Meg turned and smiled—a pale shadow of her usual easygoing grin, but a real smile all the same—and winked one of her sky-blue eyes. All signs of her torture, gone in a flash of power. It was good to be one of the mightiest entities in all of Creation.

  Of course, one of the other ones was squatting on the marble throne across from us.

  "I never meant for my sentence to be bait, to get you to return to Hell willingly. But you did." She arched an eyebrow. "Even if it wasn't for me at first."

  "I was sort of pissed off at you."

  Her smile stretched into a grin. The devil-may-care attitude looked good on her. "Have I told you that I'm glad you weren't obliterated? No one else speaks to me like one of the girls. I would have missed that."

  "Erinyes," Michael said softly, dangerously. "I did not permit you to end your punishment."

  The humor disintegrated from her face as she turned to face Him. "I did not need Your permission, Sire. My punishment is done." She was polite, but a sex-crazed rhesus monkey would have shown more deference. Everything from her tone to her stance suggested that she was speaking to an equal. In terms of sheer power, she was. "I have been forgiven by the one I had wronged."

  His eyes narrowed. "You wronged Me, when you failed in your duty."

  "There are some bonds stronger than those of duty." She squeezed me once more, then released my shoulder. "By Your leave, Sire."

  Eek! "You're leaving me? Now? Here with Him?"

  She nodded. "I have to speak to Alecto. She and I need to have a little understanding."

  "Couldn't you pick a more convenient time to do the talk show make-up thing?"

  "We all do what we must, Jezzie. Besides," she added with an innocent smile, "I know how this all plays out."

  I hissed, "For those of us who aren't cursed with foresight, could you maybe offer a hint?"

  Her smile broadened. "No. You'll have to get there on your own."

  For a best friend, she could be such a bitch.

  She bowed to Michael and repeated, "By Your leave, Sire."

  He nodded, once, His eyes flashing.

  Meg raised her arms and took flight. I watched her soar up and up, until she was a dot against the red skyway far above. And then she flew out of sight.

  "Now then," the King of Hell said, "where were we? Oh, yes. I was about to destroy you."

  Crap.

  "You think you can kiss Me and charm Me, that you can touch Me as if there were a connection between us." He smiled His contempt. "I will not be tempted by one such as you."

  As if that explained why he'd ripped my tongue out with His teeth. I lifted my chin high. "It wasn't meant to be temptation."

  "No? What then, little whore?"

  "It was a mistake. I thought that I understood You, understood having to be something You're not."

  "You understand nothing."

  No shit, Sherlock. Now that I had a new tongue, I wasn't that eager to get it ripped out again, so I said nothing while He ranted.

  "Before, you spoke so easily of want. I don't want Hell. I don't want any of Lucifer's leftovers." That last word He emphasized with a pointed sniff at me.

  Fuck you, too, you self-righteous asswipe.

  "But wants don't matter," He said. "I am the King of Hell. I have no choice. Except, perhaps, on whether I will eat another of your body parts. Maybe this time, I'll chew on your heart."

  I was too enraged to be terrified by His threat. Either He'd eat me alive and kill me dead, or He wouldn't. But I wasn't going to stand there and listen to how He had no choice but to be King, poor thing—and no alternative but to destroy everything Hell had been. "You do have a choice. All creatures have choices, even if they don't want to make them."

  "It has nothing to do with want!" The words echoed in the cold air. He clenched His teeth, gripped the armrests of the throne until His arms shook. "Only those with free will may choose. Only humans. For the celestial and the nefarious, there are only roles. There is no choice."

  "I made a choice before I became human." I offered him my most innocent smile, one that had won over six American presidents and three European Icings. "If a minor succubus can do it, You certainly can."

  He shouted, "What I can do is torture you for eternity! I can string you up before the legions of Hell and have you drawn and quartered!"

  I should have been on my knees, begging for mercy, terrified down to my core. I should have felt something other than scooped out, hollow. But I was beyond fear, beyond rage: clearheaded, and so very cold inside.

  I preferred the heat of fury.

  "I can crucify you every sunrise," He said, getting into the rhythm of intimidation, "and bury you alive every nightfall!"

  As Michael voiced His threats, it hit me that if He had intended to do any of that, He would have already done so. He was full of bluster, spouting Shakespearean sound and fury.

  The King couldn't hurt me, not any more than He already had.

  He said, "I will rip your head from your body and fly it up to the top of Abaddon itself. I will place it there on a spike, as a warning to any who think they could defy Me!"

  "No, Lord." My voice was steady, calm. "You will do no such thing."

  "You dare speak that way to Me?" He riddled me with His gaze, green as Envy incarnate. "Who are you, little whore, to tell Me what I will not do?"

  I smiled, thinking of my Sire, of the only King I would ever willingly follow. "I'll tell you who I'm not. I'm not the demon Jezebel, not anymore. Your problem was with her. Your contract was on her head, not mine. And Lucifer Himself said that contract was null and void, thanks to my human soul. My clean human soul."

  If it hadn't already been an icebox in the throne room, His look would have dropped the temperature by twenty degrees.

  "That's right, Lord," I said, fueled by His unspoken ire. "The innocent can't go to Hell, not unless You mean to steal them away from Heaven. And while that might be damn amusing to the Devil, I have a feeling Your boss won't cotton to it."

  "And now you profess to know the will of the Almighty?" He smiled thinly. "If that's not pride, I don't know what is."

  "No, Lord, not pride. Simple fact: Hell was outsourced to Heaven, not the other way around." Something clicked into place. "That's why You punished Lillith, isn't it? She did the one thing that even You would be answerable for in the eyes of the Almighty. You can't punish the innocent." Not for long, anyway.

  He said, "Innocence is subjective."

  "Not when it comes down to the soul. Paul was innocent. And I've done nothing wrong that would land me here permanently."

  "You chose to be here."

  "I was manipulated into making the choice."

  Michael stared at me, dark thoughts flashing behind those emerald eyes. "You are a slut who tempts mortals with lust."

  And He was an egotistical schmuck, but I didn't say so. Look at that—I had better manners than the King of Hell. Wonders would never cease. "My entertainment keeps mortals from acting on that lust, Lord. And You know it. You can't judge humanity by its dreams. You can't condemn them for their fantasies. Only their actions, Lord."

  "Intentions matter, little whore."

  "Maybe," I s
aid. "But actions matter more."

  He sniffed his derision. "Your actions speak for you. You ran away."

  "I couldn't stay here as a Nightmare," I replied, "scaring mortals with no greater purpose."

  "It was your role."

  "It wasn't the right one. I was meant to be a Seducer, not a Frightener."

  He looked at me the way a Bengal tiger watches a deer. "And I was meant for greater things than the Abyss, little whore. Yet here I am."

  Oh, spare me the pity parade. I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm sorry that your feathers got singed. Maybe You're content to sit back and sulk about it. Me, I couldn't be shoe-horned into doing something for all time that I despised." Thinking of how Meg had allowed herself to be punished, I said, "Some, when given a choice, will choose duty over desire. But some won't. I chose not to. If You choose to stay in a role You despise, don't blame anyone but Yourself for it."

  "Blame." A smile flitted across those red-stained lips—bruised cherries on bone china. "Perhaps I blame you for embarrassing Me."

  "You can't hurt me any worse than You already have. My soul is clean. You have to let me go," I said, the realization breaking over me like the sunrise. "You have to send me back."

  Our gazes locked, green on green. Hatred sparkled in His eyes, as pure as His white flesh. "I will see you here, half-breed. Mark my words. We're not finished, you and I. Now get out of My realm."

  With that, Michael banished me from Hell.

  Chapter 22

  Limbo/Paul's Apartment

  Through the grayness of nothing: "Jezebel."

  Sire?

  "I know you listened."

  I tried, Sire. But I heard something that He didn't say.

  "No, Jezebel. You heard what He wanted to say, but couldn't."

  I tried to play the piper, Sire. But He didn't dance.

  Laughter, and the feeling of a hand stroking my cheek.

  "No, Jezebel. It was He who was the piper, although He didn't know it. When the wolf plays piper for the lamb, the dog will hear the music and will chase the wolf away."